Deep In The Meadow
by Jaid Alexandra
Summary: " How can I tell them about that world without frightening them to death? My children, who take the words of the song for granted: 'Deep in the meadow' " This is basically about Katniss' life after Mockingjay.
1. Goodnight

**The summary doesn't really give insight into what this story is really about. Katniss asked herself how she was going to do it.. how she was going to be a good mother. How she was going to answer their questions when the time came. Well, here's a story that answers that question. Read, enjoy, and review. :)**

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The warm water falls over my head like an early spring rain. It washes away the dirt and grime of the day from my body. Even though it's been years, and even though my skin is no longer that sensitive, I scrub it as gently as if it were that delicate pink stuff they grafted onto me so long ago. After it's off, I stand in the shower for a few more minutes watching the soapy water go down the drain. Prolonging it. Delaying the inevitable. I take a deep breath before stepping out onto the mat and look into the mirror.

My olive skin is now a sorry excuse for a patchwork quilt. Scars. Burns. Discolored areas that give off the appearance of being bruised. The evidence of war is still there. I close my eyes and fight off the tears. When I open them again the reflection in the mirror is still that of 'The-Girl-Who-Was-On-Fire'. Nearly thirty years and that name still threatens to choke me.

Some wounds will never heal.

I towel off, braid back my long dark hair, and pull on my robe. The house is quiet. On hunter's feet I make my way down the hallway to her door. It was cracked just enough to let me know she's waiting. Waiting for me to tuck her in bed, just as I have for the past eleven years. She refuses to sleep until I do. There is no doubt she adores her father, but my face is the one she wishes to see before facing the darkness. So no matter what kind of day it is for me, whether I am fighting off flashbacks or listening to her brother read to me while trapped by depression in my bed, I make my way to her room and kiss my daughter goodnight.

The moonlight shines in through the slightly open window, illuminating the room enough for me to make my way to her bedside with ease. My first thought goes to how cool the room is, and I immediately fear she could catch a cold or the flu even. I go to close the window but stop short. I remember someone esle who likes to sleep with the window open and I smile.

"Mother?"

No amount of words can explain the feeling I get from hearing that word. I've been called many things in my lifetime. Daughter. Sister. Hunter. Seam brat. Best friend. Tribute. The-Girl-Who-Was-On-Fire. Lover. Ally. Victor. Fiancee. Rebel. The Mockingjay. Mutt. Soldier. Martyr. Assassin. Some of these titles I embraced with everything I had. Others threaten to destroy me with the memories they carry with them. But to hear that one word from my children...Peeta's children...our children, somehow makes everything ok.

I take a seat next to her on the bed. "It's just me sweetheart," I say tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. And there it is. My scowl. Well, it's not mine, but it might as well be.

"Only Haymitch calls me that," she says in a very serious tone.

I barely stifle a laugh because I know it will only make her mad. "Yes, he does call you that doesn't he," I smile at her. She scoots over to make room for me and we sit shoulder to shoulder, leaning against her headboard. We sit like this for awhile without talking. Sleep begins to take over the both of us, and she slides down, laying her head in my lap. I play with her hair trying to soothe her into sleep. Then the silence is broken.

"At first, I didn't like it when he called me that," she tells me. There's a long pause before she continues."Because you didn't like it when he said it to you."

I think back to all those times he called me that. How he used it to patronize me. Suggesting that I wasn't very sweet after all. I don't deny that I'm not, but that doesn't mean I wanted to be reminded. I also remember the look I gave him the first time he used it in reference to my daughter."I still don't," I say. She just smiles at me.

"Yea, I know you don't," she says closing her eyes. Her breathing becomes very rhythmic and I know she's falling asleep. There's a peaceful feeling that I get sitting here with her, listening to her breathe, feeling her heart beating, knowing she's safe. I would be happy to fall asleep here with her. But I can't. Becuase her safety means everything to me, and I wont be helping her by staying. It's too dangerous. So I get up and tuck the quilt in tight around her. Then I kiss her forehead and slip out of the room.

On my way to my bedroom I stop and peek into his room. I walk over, push his blonde curls off his forehead gently, and plant a kiss in the same spot as I did his sister. "Love you," I whisper. Then I go and double check the locks on his window. For him, not just for me. Unlike his sister, he prefers it closed, locked. He feels...safer. And I can't say I blame him. As I go to leave a little voice stops me.

"Love you too," he whispers.

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**T****here's chapter one. There are a lot of people writing stories about how Katniss and Peeta grew back together. I understand why they write them, because it doesn't tell you how, just that they did. I never wondered because that's just how they work. Katniss and Peeta were did what they always did, saved each other. Katniss didn't wonder either, she said she knew it all along. But she did wonder how she was going to be a parent to them, and answer their questions when the time came. I wondered too. So that's where I'm going with this story. Review and let me know what you think. Every thought is appreciated. I'll update soon :)**


	2. Good morning

**Thank you for the reviews. Glad you enjoyed it. Here's chapter 2. Read and review:)**

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Cool air greets me when I open the door to our bedroom. I don't even have to look to know that both windows are cracked. It's how he likes to sleep. I toss my robe off and grab the old grey t-shirt laying on the floor by the nightstand . Then I slip into bed and into his arms. Comfort. All the worries of the day dissipate. I regain that feeling of peace I felt earlier. Peeta's warm breath tickles as he whispers into my ear. "Safe."

It's not a question. It's said as more of a reassurance. A reminder to me. Because even though I saw them no more than ten minutes ago I am worrying. Like always. I turn over so that we are facing. Foreheads resting against each other. "Safe," I murmer. I second guess what I said for a moment, thinking of all the possible things that could have happened to them in that short amount of time. As if reading my thoughts, Peeta pulls me in closer to him and presses his lips firmly against mine. There are a thousand things that could happen in ten minutes. But my damaged mind can only focus on so much at once. Before long I forget about all those dangers and Peeta is all I can think about.

We break apart to catch our breath. I have that feeling, the one I first felt in the cave and again on the beach, and countless times after. But I don't act on it. If I persued those feelings everytime I got them, I would be spending more of my time pregnant than not. So I hold back. I worry enough about the two that I have. Peeta never pushes the issue. He would welcome more children in an instant, but he never just thinks about himself and what he wants. My eyelids are becoming too heavy, so I rest my head on his chest, and let the sound of his heart beat lull me to sleep.

There's a light snow on the ground. Everyone is shoulder to shoulder as the mindlessly walk through towards the square. Children. There are so many children. Crying and clinging to the hands and shirt tails of their parents. I follow them, trying to blend in with the crowd. Our destination is the square, our reasons for going there are as different as night and day. A little girl in a bright yeloow coat is walking hand in hand with her father. Gunfire rips through the crowd, and several people slump to the ground. Screams pierce the air as a second round mows down another group behind me. I drop to the ground, scuttle the ten yards to the shops, and take cover.

When I look out among the street of bodies, I see her. The little girl that was with her father. She kneels beside his motionless body, screetching and trying to rouse him. She looks up at me. I think that it's my face that I see. And it is, but then I see her blue eyes and I know it's not my face. It's my daughters. I run to her. Faster than I ever have before. But just before I make it to her a second wave of bullets slices across the chest of her yellow coat, staining it with red, knocking her onto her back. I reach her crumpled form and pull her into my lap. Holding her tightly as if to protect her, even though it's too late. I was too late. Then I remember she wasn't alone. I glance over and everything inside of me dies as I see the owner of the hand she was holding. Peeta.

Screaming. I am screaming. Begging them both to come back to me. To be safe. My whole body is shaking uncontrollably. Then my eyes shoot open and I am looking into a pair of clear blue ones. Peeta's hands were on my shoulders, shaking me, pleading with me to wake up, begging me to come back to him. And I do. I'm covered in sweat, and my breathing is still frantic.

"You're alright Katniss. Everything is alright," He tells me over and over. "It was just a dream. It's not real Katniss, I promise." Eventually I let myself believe him and nod. It's almost morning, so neither of us goes back to sleep. We lie there and watch the sun come up through the bedroom window.

The sun is officially up. Peeta coaxes me out of bed with the promise of cheese buns and bacon. He dresses and heads down. I take my time getting dressed and rebraiding my hair. Before I head downstairs I check on them again. It's early, so they are both still fast asleep. And safe. The stairs creak under foot fall now. Despite only being inhabited for a fraction of its existance, this house has been here for more than fifty years. It has survived bombings. The walls that are now decorated with pictures of family and friends, have witnessed all the pain experienced here. Which, in my opinion, would be enough cause for it to collapse in on itself. I wonder what it is that the Captiol did to make it so sturdy. Then it hits me. It's not the Capitol that holds this home together. Like for me and Peeta, it's the joy and laughter that now inhabits all of us, that keeps us strong.

Peeta and I live in the house that was awarded to me after my first games. He was given an identical one that still sits only yards to the left of the one we now share. A few months after he returned to Twelve, and after we grew back together, he moved in. It wasn't anything official really. We were sitting by the fire when a spark popped out of the flames and landed on my foot. It was only a little spark. But, I know all too well what a spark can become. It sent me into hysterics. Peeta grabbed me, carried me upstairs, and put me in the shower clothes and all until I stopped screaming. Then he wrapped me in a towel and I crawled into bed soaking wet. Just as he was getting up to leave, I grabbed his hand and asked him to stay. And we've lived here together ever since.

His old house didn't sit empty very long though. One day, after the rebuilding and reconstruction of District Twelve was complete, she came back. I hadn't seen her in so long I almost didnt recognize her. Listening to her voice on the phone I would have never guessed the amount of damage losing a husband and daughter had done to her body. I pushed aside the feelings of abandonment and opened my arms to her. My mother has lived next door to us for quite some time. She was never a very good mother, but she is making up for it now as a grandmother.

The smells of fresh baked bread and sizzling bacon fill the kitchen. I take a seat at the table and watch Peeta as he works. There's a sound coming form the foyer that mimmicks that of a herd of stampeding animals. The kids are coming through the doorway when they catch sight of me. Her eyes widen slightly, but he just smiles. I try not to notice her look. But I know why it's there. It isn't too often I make it down to join them for breakfast.

"Good morning," they say in unison. Peeta echos them from his place at the stove.

"Good morning," I croak out. Another night of screaming has left my vocal chords damaged and sore. But no one acts as if they've noticed. We sit together and eat our breakfast as a family. It's such a simple thing, eating breakfast together. But it's a gift.

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**There's chapter 2. A little more insight into Katniss' thoughts and how she deals with things after all this time. Let me know what you think about it in your reviews :)**


	3. What's In a Name

**Alright everybody, here's chapter 3. Read, review, enjoy :)**

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After the breakfast is eaten they run back upstairs to get ready for school. I place the dishes in the sink, but before I can even turn the faucet on Peeta is behind me. Arms around my waste, chin resting on my shoulder.

"Thank you for coming to breakfast," he says.

I know he means well. That he just wanted to let me know that he and the kids really were happy I was there to eat with them. But I still feel wounded. He shouldn't be thanking me for that. I flip so my back is resting on the counter and Peeta is leaning his hips against mine. He gives me a flirtatious smirk. I narrow my eyes at him, trying hard to surpress my own smile. Peeta has always been able to do this to me. Rescue me from my darkest thoughts, chip away at the sorrow, and bring out the best in me. I take a long look at him. He still looks like that same boy that threw me the bread. A small part of his right eyebrow was burned in the same explosion that turned me into a fire mutt and took my sister Prim. It never grew back. But the flames left his blue eyes unscathed. The biggest difference is that he now wears a closely kept beard. I'm not fond of the light blondish-brown scruff, but I agreed not to complain if he agreed to ignore my leg hair whenever I am too lazy to shave it. Being as I couldn't care less about my leg hair and often ignore it, and that I really don't mind his scruffy beard all that much, I believe Peeta got the short end of the stick. He leans in kissing my neck and warmth spreads out all across my body. Without the pressures of war and being the sole provider for my family, I finally became more aware of how much I love Peeta. How much I truly loved him all along. I don't hesitate to return his affection now. My arms work their way up and around his neck. I don't want him to pull away. And he doesn't. Well, not until I glance over his shoulder and see them standing there, watching us.

I've never gotten over that though. That feeling of awkwardness that comes with being watched. I still blush whenever Peeta and I get 'caught' so to speak. Even if it is just in front of our children. Peeta goes over and picks them both up in his strong arms. Happiness seems to radiate out from the place where they stand. Peeta continuessly spins them around and around in circles. Their little protests turn into laughter and then we are all laughing.

"Alright," Peeta says, finally stopping. "You two are gonna be late for school. Katniss, do you mind walking them? I've got that 'big project' down at the bakery."

I remember the specific 'project' he's talking about and nod.

"See you at 2 o'clock then," he says. Then he gives each of us a kiss, saving me for last, and heads towards town.

The kids and I leave shortly after. They are still dizzy from earlier. I grab his hand to keep him steady. But when I reach for hers she pulls her hand away. Refusing my help. Determined to walk on her own. Haymitch is in the yard chasing his geese around, yelling obscenities from behind his fence he put up to keep out the neighborhood dogs. Turns out he isn't the only one chasing his geese around. He looks up at me and I glare at him. He shoots a fierce look in return, but when the children pop into view he understands. There's no need to talk like that around them.

"Hey there sweetheart," he says a little to kindly. "Little sweetheart. Slug." I hate when Haymitch calls them that. But they wave and smile back at him. Somehow my children have a sobering affect on our old mentor. Almost seventy in age, Haymitch is still around chasing geese with his cane, drinking the white liquor that has turned his skin a shade of yellow, and giving out his unwanted wisdom where he sees fit. When she was born he looked at us and said, "You want some advice? Keep her alive." Peeta laughed. He was only joking after all. Like how he calls our son 'slug'. He had said I had the charm of a dead slug when he first began mentoring me. And even though he is a carbon copy of his father, when it comes to being a people person I'm afraid our son takes after me. Shy. I still don't find Haymitch's comments funny. But I don't even want to think about the day I won't be able to scowl at him anymore, so I smile and wave to him too.

The distance from Victor's Village to town is just as long as it ever was. But we pass the time singing some of the tunes my father used to sing to me. I gave up singing once because it reminded me of him too much. Now I do it because it would be a crime to forget him and how the birds would go silent at the sound of his voice. It isn't too long before we are at the edge of the square. We make our way across, through the crowd of market people, and up the path to the front of the school yard. Only a few other parents have bothered to walk their children. So this is where I say my goodbyes. I watch as she takes his hand, replacing mine with her own, and walks with him through the front doors. My children.

There are exactly the same number of years between them in age as there were between Prim and I. Pax turned eight this past December. I still remember the day he was born like it was yesterday. It had been nineteen years exactly since the fall of President Snow and the oppressive Capitol regime. Nineteen years of peace under the new Republic of Panem. While everyone was watching the ceremony on the television or celebrating with their families, I was screaming my head off in my mother's kitchen. She delivered both of our children there. I refused to go to the hospital. Too many bad memories. Besides, it only felt right having them at home like the people of 12 always have. After eleven hours of labor and excrutiating pain, he arrived. I waited and waited to hear the cry that meant he was breathing, that he was safe, but it never came. Not even Peeta could mask the worry on his face. But my mother brought him over, wrapped tightly in a green blanket, and sat him in my arms reasssuring me that he was fine. Breathing and very much alive. It wasn't until those gray eyes locked on mine that I believed her. I was at peace.

In the hover craft that brought Haymitch and I back to District 12 after my trial for killing Coin was over, Plutarch Heavensbee had explained to me that Panem was now in a time they referred to as the 'sweet period'. A time where everyone agrees that our recent horrors should never be repeated. How long it would last, nobody knew. I read about a similar thing happening in a historical place called Rome that Plutarch also mentioned. They called it the Pax Romana...which is Latin for Roman peace. So it seemed only perfect. Pax. My peace.

Carrying her was something all its own. From the first kick, fear took on a whole new meaning. Which, considering my past, is saying something. It was sixteen weeks into my pregnancy when I began feeling her. I couldn't walk, I barely talked. Confined to my bed by worry. I was too afraid I'd fall and lose her, or bump into something and lose her, or over exert myself and lose her. The possibility of losing her was too much for me. But, one day I got up, carefully walked downstairs, and kissed Peeta with a passion I rarely showed him. It wasn't Peeta's promises to watch over me or my mother's medical reassurance. Not even Haymitch's threat to come over and drag me out of bed if he had to, that finally convinced me I'd be alright. It was the memory of Hazel, Gale's mother. How swollen her belly was the day she watched her eldest son accept the Medal of Valor in her dead husband's honor. How cracked and red her hands were from washing every stitch of clothing she could get a hold of, in an attempt to provide for three starving boys and an infant daughter. If she could do that, then I would be alright. My child was a promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And Peeta is the only one who has ever been able to give me that. That's when I knew what I would name her.

To anyone but me, it is nothing but a weed. Seen as more of a nuisance rather than a sign of hope. In the family plant book I found it means remedy, and is classified under the medicinal plants. It's scientific name: Taraxacum Officinale. It's household name: the common dandelion. And every part of it is edible. As long as she can find herself she'll never starve. An honor to both my father and Prim. Tara was born in the early morning hours of a late Spring day. May 8th. My birthday. My Mother placed her in my arms and I took in every ounce of her. My dark hair and olive skin, Peeta's clear peircing blue eyes, his mouth. In that moment I realized that I wasn't just holding our daughter. In my arms was yet another gift to me from the boy with the bread... that I'll never be able to repay.

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**O.K. First thing is, what did you think about Katniss' naming process? I didn't want to just give them some random name. Suzanne Collins gave her characters names that had meaning behind them. I'm trying really hard to stick to her style, not only by staying true to Katniss' personality, but by staying true in all aspects. (hope it's being accomplished) Second thing, I know there are a lot of people from other countries reading this. (which is awesome by the way) So I know your seasons may be different from ours, but in the U.S.A., May is considered Spring not Summer. Thought I'd clear that one up. I worked really hard on this chapter so tell me what you think and review. :) **


	4. The Market

**Chapter 4 is up. Hope you like it. Read and review :)**

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School lasts for exactly six hours. I'm not supposed to meet Peeta at the bakery until two o'clock. So I have a few hours to myself. And out of all the people I could spend time with, I don't count myself as one with much quality. I rank it somewhere between gamemakers and dirt.

If there was more time I 'd probably head into the woods. Hunt for a bit or gather plants for my mother, who opened an apothecary a short time after her return. She had earned a good amount of money during her stay in District 4 by helping establish their hospital. With it, she bought one of the small shops near the square. It wasn't much of a surprise though. I hunt. Peeta bakes. Haymitch drinks and raises geese. My mother throws herself into her work. It's how we all cope.

With not much else to do, I find myself lingering through the market. It's quite a step up from what District 12 was used to. Stall to stall, filled with things my people couldn't have even dreamed of seeing. Clothes from District 8, electronics from District 3, fruits and vegetables from District 11, fresh seafood from District 4, bags of wheat from District 9. From the vendors to the wood and stone its made of, there is evidence of every district here. It's still not the Hob though. Some of my best memories are from the Hob. Trading after a long day of hunting. Darius playing with my braid, his harmless flirtacious teasing. And buying a bowl of hot soup from Greasy Sae on a winter day. The Hob, along with the people who inhabited it, will always be apart of me. Mostly in the form of nightmares. But not just. Even though he was a peacekeeper, Darius was one of my few friends. And Greasy Sae. Who started the collection to sponsor Peeta and I in the Games. The one who came back to Twelve with me and kept me alive.

I'll never forget the day she died. I had been hunting that morning and was on my way to drop some fresh game off to her. I knocked lightly and walked on in, just like any other day. Nobody was in the kitchen. When I walked into the sitting room I found her in an old rocking chair by the fire. She almost looked like she could have been sleeping. Her grandaughter, the one who's always been in her own world, was sitting quietly in the floor next to her. She was buried in the meadow amongst the others. A lot of people came to give their respects. There wasn't a single tear shed though. Old age was a sign of a successful life. She had done much for the District and it's people. So we placed the three middle fingers of our left hands to our lips, and extend it out to her. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

Whether she was being neighborly by feeding me, or she was on the Capitol's payroll, I'll never know. But something I do know is she cared about me when I thought I had no one else, and I owe her. Her grandaughter couldn't have been more than nine at the time. There was no one left to care for her. So we made a place for her in my mother's house, and in our family. We found out her name was Hallah. Now, in her early twenties, she still doesn't do or say much. But she likes to watch my mother knit, loves hearing the stories Tara and Pax read to her, draws with Peeta, and hugs me ferociouly everytime I see her. I've never been one who likes to be touched. But, she's the closest thing I have to a sister anymore, so I always hug her back.

Two hours have passed. As always, I've been lost in my own world. There is still a good amount of time untill I'm supposed to meet Peeta. So, I waste in the market. I don't buy much. Sweets for Pax. A purple ribbon for Hallah's hair. A new book for Tara. We don't live in the laps of luxury, but with Peeta working at the bakery and my selling game to the butcher, we have money to spare. After the war, Paylor was still sending the victors money from their winnings. But, once the bakery was rebuilt and running, Peeta and I decided that we no longer wished to recieve our winnings. Blood money. So we had it split two ways. One part we gave to the school. Who makes sure that every child, eighteen and under, recieves two free meals every school day. There will be no more hollow stomachs in District 12. No more desperate girls lining up to sell their bodies just to feed their families. No, those days are over. The second part will be delivered every month for the remainder of our lives. In a bright yellow envelope. To the families of Rue and Thresh. Just as it was promised.

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**So, there's chapter 4. Not a whole lot going on but I wanted to answer certain questions and show how things have changed since the war, and how some things have not:) Read and review please. It lets me know how I'm doing. hope you enjoyed it.**


	5. Day Dreams

Here's chapter 5 everyone. It started off twice as long, but that seemed to be too much. So I split them up and the next chapter is ready, but i'm waiting to put it up. Hope you like it :) Thank you for all the great reviews! So glad you like my writing so much. Read and review :)

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The market is very busy today. Too busy. More than once I've caught the eyes of a few shoppers staring, not at the merchant's wares, but at me. Typical. Whether they lived through it or read about it, they know who I am and what I've done. People have come from all over the country to see me in the flesh. So, this doesn't usually bother me. After all, it's not like it's something new. I've been watched my whole life. What bothers me is not the eyes of curious people I don't know, but those of someone I do. Someone I've known for longer than I care to remember. Who's outer appearance is altered greatly from the one I recall. A mixture of aging and all that military training is no doubt the cause of this. But no amount of time or physical exertion could hide those tell tale signs. Olive skin. Grey eyes. Commander or not, Gale is just as Seam as he always was.

His gaze is locked on mine. It looks as if he's fighting with himself. Much like Peeta does when faced with a rare, but still occuring flashback. Like he's trying to decide something. I'm surprised when Gale is the first to break eye contact. He turns and I watch as he slowly walks away through the crowded market. Then he's out of my field of vision. Gone.

My mind does things like this to me. On good days, it will bring back people from the past that I cared about. It's not like my nightmares though. Where I see them tortured and bleeding. Where I'm too late to save them. Where they're burning alive in front of me. No, these are different. More like daydreams. For instance, when the Peaceforce officers stroll by I see Darius among them. Looking sharp in the new uniforms. A pale green button up shirt, tucked into forrest green pants, a belt pulled tight around his waist. A patch of the Republic of Panem flag stitched onto his left sleeve, and the silver badge embelished with the District 12 seal pinned over his beating heart. Or when I'm walking through what used to be the Seam and I see my father with a game bag over his shoulder. Wearing his hunting jacket. Not a spec of cole dust on him. I hear his voice and it's so real even the mockingjays go silent. Or when I hear someone playing piano and their face immediately turns into Madge's. Her quiet but brave fingers moving with purpose across the keys. Just like they did when we spent all those afternoons together. Or how about Cinna, who I swear owns a dress shop, two stores down from the bakery. The elegant silk gowns hanging in the window don't even begin to compare to his work, but they fool me everytime. Or the one time I was on the front porch, waiting for Tara to walk back after visiting my mother. She had only put her hair back into two braids instead of one, but that's all it took. When I saw her I ran off the porch towards her, arms open, screaming my sister's name. Another time I followed a woman in her late thirties, with a blonde braid, and three little ones flocked around her, all the way to their home. Wanting so badly for it to be my sister and her children. My neices and nephews that I'd love and protect like my own. Prim. Her smile. Her voice. Her laugh. Her smell. Her braids. Her eyes. Her everything. She is everywhere. I see all of them. Happy and very much alive. I allow myself to believe it for a short time. Willing it to be real. But every night I am reminded of their actual fate.

Usually, when I see Gale I am in the woods. He is hunting, fishing at the lake, calling me Catnip, or sitting at our old meeting spot waiting for me. Looking like the Gale I remember. Young and full of fight. That's why today was so strange. He was in the market, not the woods. His hair was short, faint lines from age on his face, dressed head to toe in his military uniform. He looked sharp, but very defeated. He didn't talk. Just stared. Why was today different?

_Not real. That wasn't him. Gale moved to District 2. Works for the military. He used to live in District 12. We were best friends. He left. He's gone. Gale is safe. But he is gone. _

_I miss him._

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Other than the occasional fieldworker headed home after a long laborious day, I pass no one on the way to my mother's shop. It's good. After the market today I could use some space. The street is so quiet that I can hear every crunch of the shifting gravel beneath my feet. I've never liked the idea of gravel roads. There is no such thing as a light tread on this stuff. Peeta, who couldnt sneak up on a deaf man, sounds like a herd of animals everytime we walk together. But the gravel serves a purpose. During the beginning stages of the rebuild of my District, big Capitol machines came in to plow the earth. Now we are surrounded by fields filled with rows of corn, watermelons, and pumpkins. We even have orchards lined with tree after tree of apples of all colors and variety, peaches too. All the carts going back and forth created ruts and potholes in the dirt roads. So they hauled in gravel from District 2. No dust, no dirt, no mud, no potholes.

It's barely a five minute walk from the square to the apothecary. It's pale blue front reminds me of the dress my mother gave me to wear for reaping day when I was sixteen. White, decorative shutters hang on either side of the two front windows. A concrete ramp leads up to the front door that sits under a small white awning. And there, hanging on a metal hook that juts off the side of the building, is the sign that reads: _**Dr. Everdeen**__._ While my mother was in Four she studied and recieved a license to practice medicine. As if she needed one. But it got her the title. So it's official, we have a doctor in the family. As push the door open I think the same thing I always think when I see that sign.

I am proud of my mother...but her name doesn't belong on that sign. Primrose Everdeen does. Doctor...Primrose Everdeen.

Hallah is sitting in the wooden chair at the front desk. She points towards the back room, telling me that the doctor is busy, but doesn't look up. "I forgot to call ahead," I tell her jokingly. Then I'm handed the appointment book. I scratch down _Katniss to see Hallah_, and hand it back to her. She points to the chairs in the small front room where patients wait for their name to be called, so I go take a seat. Not a second after I sit she walks over to me. Her eyes stay locked on the floor. But I stand and she hugs me. Tight. Like she will never let me go. I hug her back with equal force. "I got you something Hallah," I say with a smile. I take the purple ribbon out of my bag and tie her hair back with it.

"Pretty?," she asks, barely audible.

"Beautiful," I tell her.

She's pointing again. This time out the window. I follow her finger and find Peeta at the end of it. He is outside sweeping off the front porch, whistling I think. The bakery sits right across from the apothecary. Just like it did when our parents were younger. I can see he is covered in flour, a gleam of sweat on his brow from the heat of the oven. Watching him makes my heart flutter. I can't help but think about his father, and wonder how many times he stood at the bakery watching my mother through the window. What it must have been like to love someone, be so close to having them and have them run off with some coal miner. Kinda like how I ran of with a baker. Who'd of thought? I kiss Hallah on the cheek and head over to the bakery.

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**Alright, so what did you think about chapter 5? I work really hard to keep with Katniss' personality. Sometimes she may seem a little out of character, though. Like when she actually shows affection or admits feelings. But, she occasionally did this in the books, and she isn't seventeen anymore. I want to show that even though she is still damaged, she has still grown as character. Next chapter will be up as soon as I revise it. (I never post an unrevised chapter) Review please. :)**


	6. Real?

**Hey everybody. I know it's been a long time since I've posted. I've had some family stuff going on. Haven't had the best time the last few months. But anywho, I'm back in the writing mood again. So here is chapter 6. Sorry if it isn't my best chapter, but I'll be posting again soon. **

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The smells of the bakery assualt my senses as soon as I open the door. This is what Peeta smells like when he comes home. Cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar, and dough. Other than the fact that it's only a single story, this place is an exact replica of the one his parents owned. Wooden floors throughout, the smooth wood counters, shelves lined with everything from bread to cookies. The cakes are in their proper place, occupying the the front windows. Prim used to love walking over to admire them when we were younger. She would beg me to take her to see them, and I always would. How could I deny her the small bit of beauty District 12 actually possessed. Little did I know that it was Peeta's careful hands that had decorated them.

"So I'm not the only thing you have a problem staring at today," Peeta says startling me.

I blush, realizing I'd been caught earlier. "I don't believe I know what you're talking about," I say pretending to be clueless.

"Well, let me see if I can jog your memory," he says, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my middle. "I was out sweeping the leaves and flour off the front porch, and you were looking out from the window over at your mother's, drooling over the way my muscles flex when I push the broom."

I scoff, "More like I was thinking your sweeping skills could use some improvement. How is it you can paint a masterpiece, but can't push a broom properly? "

"That bad huh?," he chuckles. "Are you sure you weren't thinking, man I'm so in love I don't know what to do with myself?" I smile and smack his arm playfully. That wasn't exactly what I was thinking, but it was pretty close. I do love him. I have always loved him. It took me awhile, not just to realize it, but to understand it. He, not unlike my sister Prim, has this way of working through the walls I build up and reminding me that there is still good in this world. That some of that good is in me. That I am allowed to be happy, even when I think I don't deserve to be.

Peeta rests his chin on my shoulder and whispers in my ear. "Oh wait, that's what I was thinking when I was staring at you before Hallah caught me and pointed me out." I can feel his smile. He kisses me, first on my neck, next my jaw bone, then our lips find each other. It's warm in here, but the heat from the oven is nothing compared to the heat I feel when Peeta kisses me. Whether it be with kisses or words, so many times these lips have rescued me from myself.

The smell of something burning interrupts us. Yuri, a boy Peeta recently hired, comes out of the back room with a tray full of wheat loaves. Scorched. It's clear that he is upset. "I-I'm sorry . I thought I set the timer right, b-but," he stammers.

Peeta looks at him sternly. "This is the second time this week Yuri. You're going to have to pay more attention alright. We can't afford to burn half of what we make." I pull away from Peeta sharply. He can't hide his confusion when I gentley, but still forcefully shove his shoulder. "What was that for?"

"How dare you," I say, trying to sound as upset as I possibly can . The look on his face is making it really hard for me to keep mine serious. "Seriously, what would eleven year old Peeta have to say to you?"

When he finally realizes what I mean, he starts laughing uncontrollably. Peeta's laugh reminds me a lot of my father's. It's deep and so full of life that I can't help but laugh too. Yuri's face looks alot like Peeta's did a few moments ago.

"I'm sorry Yuri. Accidents happen," Peeta says in between his laughs.

Yuri looks relieved. Confused but relieved. "I'll be more careful next time. I promise."

Peeta justs smiles. "I know. Just sit the tray there on the counter, I'll take care of it in a minute." He gestures for me to follow him. "You still want to see the surprise I've been working on for Tara?" I glance up at the clock that hangs above the doorway to the backroom and try to shove down my panic. I didn't realize how long I'd been here, and if I don't hurry I won't make it in time to get Tara and Pax from school. Peeta looks up too. "Go ahead, they'll be waiting. It will just have to be a surprise for you too."

I give him a quick kiss and turn to head for the door. Before I go I grab a burnt loaf of bread and toss it at him. "We're even. See you at home," I say with a wink. With that I pull the solid wood door closed hard and hurry towards the school. The main road is crowded now that most people are either leaving school or getting off work. I'm definitely not one for crowds, plus I'm running late, so I take a bunch of back streets and cut through some yards. I get some looks from a couple yard owners that I couldn't care less about. Finally I can see the back of the school. I hurry my way through the empty playground and around the side of the immense brick building.

There are several kids hanging out in little groups in the front school grounds. I'm scanning the groups and I don't see them. I try to remember what they were wearing this morning but my minds racing too fast and I can't remember, can't focus on faces even. I can feel the urge to scream their names pushing up through my windpipe. Just as I'm about to release it I hear his voice. "Mom! Hey, Mom we're over here!" Pax is smiling and waving at me from the spot where he and his sister are sitting on the fence that surrounds the entire school. I relax a little. That is, until I get closer and realize they aren't alone.

So I wasn't seeing things.

"Mrs. Mellark," he says with a somewhat timid nod.

I'm quiet for a moment while I try to focus on reality. I look at him, _really_ look at him before I decide he's real. Then I reply in the same formal tone.

"Commander Hawthorne."

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**Well, there is chapter 6. More to come soon. Let me know what you think. Thank you for reading and reviewing.**


	7. Dinner

**Alrighty everyone, here is the next installment to my story. Sorry for it always taking me so long to get new chapters up. I have an end to the story that I'm working towards, and key points that I want in it, but I'm pretty much flying by the seat of my pants on everything else. Plus, I'm OCD on content. If it doesn't sound and feel like Katniss' voice to me, then I start over. Then I edit and edit again. So, here is chapter 7. Read, enjoy, and review to tell me what you think :)**

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Even though I know that it was real, that he was real, it didn't feel like I always thought it would. Because let's face it, I have thought about it. Kept him in the back of my mind. It took awhile to finally be able to separate him from the explosion that took Prim from me. Years. When it finally happened, Peeta was the one to thank for it. Ultimately, Gale was just another piece in someone's game. Coin's game. Not unlike myself. My hand full of poisoness berries killed thousands. Gale's bomb killed hundreds. Prim, just happened to be there. I don't even want to know how many sisters I killed.

There is so much I've wanted to say to him. A lot of which I wanted to say back in that bathroom in the President's mansion and couldn't. But I didn't know then. After I shot Coin I called out for him, to shoot me, but he didn't. And I hated him for it. Of course I hated everyone then. No one more than myself. He kept me alive. Yea, a lot of other people did too. Gave their life so I could keep mine. Not for me though, but for the cause. I was more to Gale then just the cause.

The formality of it all caught me off guard almost as much as seeing him did. " ." And did I honestly call him _Commander Hawthorne_? It's not like I expected some big emotional reunion, where we go back and forth telling each other how much we missed each other and how sorry we both are. Because to be honest Gale doesn't have very much to be sorry for. As much time as I spent thinking about seeing him again, I did little to actually prepare for it. I stood there staring at him with some blank, lost look. We both did. When we finally broke the stare it wasn't either one of our doings.

"Gale!"

We snapped our heads around to find Peeta, walking up the gravel road, wearing a huge smile. He came up and kissed both the kids on the forehead, me on the cheek, and then extended his hand to Gale who, to my surprise, shook his hand and smiled back just as big. After some small talk between the two of them it was agreed that he would be joining us for dinner.

So here I am, cutting vegetables to add to the roast Peeta had thawing in the sink from this morning, and wondering how this dinner is going to play out. I hear someone walk in the kitchen, feel their stare. When I turn around it's Tara I find in the doorway.

She smiles at me. "Want some help with that?"

I smile back and nod towards the can of biscuits on the counter. "You can get those ready to go in the oven."

She opens the can and I jump a little when it pops. I notice that she didn't even flinch. It's quiet again as she pulls the biscuits apart and places them on the pan. After the can is tossed in the garbage she turns back to me. "Does anyone else think that it's weird that dad is a baker and we're eating biscuits from a can?"

I laugh. Hard. Then we're both laughing. "I won't tell if you won't," I say tossing the vegetables in with the roast, and sliding it in the oven. We don't eat fresh bread here often. Much like when Peeta's father ran the bakery, we eat what's left over from the day. It's not like the stale stuff that Peeta was accustomed to though. Canned biscuits aren't exactly a new thing either. They are just another luxury the Capitol had access to, that we didn't. Like modern medicine. But now District 12 is the main distributor of all pharmaceutical products. Things change. Fevers aren't that big of a deal anymore, and my family eats canned biscuits.

"We setting the table Mom?"

Stepping out of the kitchen and into the dining room is like stepping into two different worlds. The only sounds come from the occasional placement of a plate or silverware on the table, the scuffling of feet on the floor. It's hard being so close to someone yet feeling so far away at the same time. It's been like this with us a lot lately, between my daughter and I. Her refusing my help, giving me sideways glances. The only time we really spend with each other is when I go to tuck her in at night. And in those moments I get my little girl back. At eleven she's smart enough to know the truth about me. How broken I am. I can't really blame her for being so distant at times. I often wonder if this is how my mother felt.

"He seems really nice," she says, interrupting my thoughts. It takes me a second to realize she's talking about Gale.

"Yes," I say, "He does, I mean is. It's been a long time."

As the last fork is being set in place she breaks the silence again.

"You loved him."

It's not a question. This is the kind of thing, among others, that used to keep me up at night. Just another part of me I couldn't figure out. Another way I was causing someone pain. The old Katniss couldn't understand it. All this talk about love embarrassed and confused her. But I am not the old Katniss Everdeen. As a matter of fact I'm not Katniss Everdeen at all anymore. My name is Katniss Mellark...for a reason.

I take a deep breath before beginning. "I did love him. And he loved me." I pull out a chair for Tara to sit in and take the one next to her. "But our love for each other was different. I didn't love him like he wanted me to."

"Because your star had already crossed someone elses," she says with a small smile.

I find the corners of my mouth turning up too as I think about whose star mine crossed. "Yea. It sure did."

"I know why you haven't talked to him," she blurts out.

She grabs my hand and those grey eyes lock on mine. At first I am confused by her intensity, but as I stare into them I can see my own pain mirrored back at me. My children know a lot about their aunt. That Prim died in the war. Peeta and I had decided to wait to go into details, and I guess they knew it was such a sensitive subject that they never asked. I didn't want to haunt them with the images that are forever etched into my memory...and on my heart. I want to let go. To walk away from the awfulness that is the truth, just like I always do. Run away and not come back untill its gone. As if ignoring it would make it hurt less. But behind the pain in her eyes is something else, and it's begging me to hold on. To listen. So for her, I do something my mother never did. I stay.

"But I also know something else..." Tara continues. "You forgive him." When she pauses, as if to let it all sink in, I swallow the lump that was forming in my throat. "Do you want to know what else I know," she says softly but with confidence," I believe he forgives you too."

*In that moment, I am taken back to the cool tiled floor of compartment 307. I can feel the warmth of the blanket that's draped around Prim, Buttercup, and I. It was another sleepless night in 13.

_"Katniss?" Prim whispers. "What's wrong"_

_"Nothing. Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep," I say dismissing her._

_"You could tell me you know. I'm good at keeping secrets. Even from Mother."_

_"Tomorrow morning, I'm going to agree to be the Mockingjay," I tell her. _

_"Because you want to or because you feel forced into it?"_

_I laugh a little. "Both, I guess. No, I want to. If it will help defeat Snow. It's just...Peeta. I'm afraid if we do win, the rebels will execute him as a traitor."_

She thinks it over. Then she explains to me how important I am, and how important people usually get what they want.

_"You mean... I could demand that they give Peeta immunity? And they'd have to agree to it?"_

_"I think you could demand almost anything and they'd have to give it to you."_

And that is when my thirteen year old sister and I came up with what became known as the 'Mockingjay Deal'.

_"I should wake you up more often little duck." _

_"I wish you would," says Prim. She gives me a kiss. "Try to sleep now, all right?" _

And I did. *

The same relief I felt then, washes over me now. A few tears escape, and my eleven year old daughter wipes them away with her free hand. All the distance I felt only a short time ago is replaced by this closeness, this connection, that includes not only Tara and myself, but Prim and even my mother. I also realize how much luckier I am than my mother ever was. Because Tara is a far better daughter than I am. "I don't know how you became so smart. But thank you," I say whispering the last part, as I kiss her forehead.

"It's genetic,"she says with a shrug and a smile.

I half laugh. "Remind me to thank your father."

Everything is done. The roast and vegetables have been thrown in the pot and made into a stew that is now cooling on the stove. Biscuits are on a plate, tea is made, and the pie Peeta brought home is in the fridge. I've been sitting here leaning on the counter for the past half hour, staring at the empty fireplace, and stealing glances at the clock.

I find a spec on the counter and begin picking at it with my finger nail. Stare at the clock, pick at the counter. . Stare... Just then the kitchen door flies open and I about jump out of my patchwork skin. It's just Peeta ad Pax.

"What have you guys been getting into," I ask trying to calm my breathing. Me being jumpy is nothing new. But in an instant Peeta is by my side, rubbing my lower back and soothing away my worries of the evening. Pax is leaning into my other side, also comforting me.

"Haymitch's geese keep chasing Pax whenever he's out back. So I gathered them up and we patched the holes in the fence where they were getting out," Peeta says, surpressing a smile.

Pax looks at Peeta wryly, "You gathered them up after you got done watching them chase me!"

Peeta grabs him and gives him a bear hug. "There, now we both smell like geese. Happy?" When he sets him back down Pax is still scowling. "You know, if you keep that up your face is gonna get stuck like that," Peeta says.

"I don't believe you," Pax says.

Peeta's face gets real serious. Then he whispers in Pax's ear loud enough so that I hear. "Your mother didn't believe me either...now look!" They both look at me. And as hard as I am trying not to, I know I am scowling. He steals a quick kiss from me and ruffles our son's blonde curls as he hurries for the stairs. Pax takes off after him.

No sooner do they make it up the stairs, when there is knocking on the front door. I go to answer it and have to wipe my sweaty hands on my pants leg so I can turn the knob. When I open the door I find Haymitch, my mother, and Hallah waiting on the front porch. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "You know you can just walk in, right?" It doesn't matter how many times they are told, they still knock.

"Just trying to be mannerly," my mother says as she kisses my cheek.

"Really, it's no big deal mother," I say thinking about how I've never knocked when visiting either of their homes.

Haymitch belches and pats my shoulder. "Yea, Katniss here never was one for manners. Were you sweetheart?" Then he makes his way into the dining room, leaving the slight smell of spirits lingering behind him. Haymitch drinks just as much as he ever did, but he tries to hold back when he's going to be around the children. We have dinner together just about every evening. It's held mostly at our home, but occasionally we will go to my mother's. Haymmitch comes if he isn't already too drunk.

"I rank manners somewhere among my leg hair and make up, when it comes to things that matter to me Haymitch," I joke.

"Effie is cringing all the way from the Capitol," Peeta says in the afflicted Capitol accent, that has been the butt of our jokes for many years.

"That never gets old, does it?"

Standing there, leaning on the frame of the open door, caught up in the conversation, I never noticed Gale arrive. So he startled me when he spoke. I take a good look at him. He has traded in the military uniform he was wearing earlier for a simple pair of dark pants and a white button up shirt. He could be the boy from the Seam that I met in the woods so long ago. If it wasn't for the gray tinged hair and wrinkles in his forhead.

Gale looked down at his plain outfit. "No matter how hard I scrubbed over the years, I just couldn't get the Seam off of me."

"Katniss couldn't either, but she doesn't scrub often so it comes as no surprise," Haymitch hollers from his place at the table. Everyone is chuckling. I glare at the room full of people having a laugh at my expense. I'm about to shoot something back when out of the corner of my eye I see that ghost of smile on Gale's face.

I smile at him. "Come on in. Please excuse my smell," I say loud and sarcastically.

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**Ok. Chapter 7. Let me know what you think about it. Chapter 8 is coming soon. And by soon I don't mean . It'll be a day or two. Read and review please! I take all comments and ****criticism seriously and appreciate it :) **


	8. A Walk to Remember

**I know it's been forever, and to all of those have been waiting I apologize for taking so long. I finally have been abe to write this and am working on the next few chapters. Haven't given up on the story and I hope you guys haven't either. Read, emjoy, and please review to let me know what you think :)**

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Dinner went well.

_Almost too well_, I think as I gather the dishes from the table. I've got this feeling as if the dinner I just attended was previously rehearsed. That is a crazy thought being as it wasn't even planned untill this afternoon and I just spent two hours making it myself. Immediately I want to blame these doubts on my lifetime issue with trust. The fact that I have next to none. Especially for anyone outside my family. If my life has taught me anything, it's that if something is too good to be true, it most likely is. The sound of my children laughing floats into the kitchen. "_Not everything Katniss_," I argue with myself as I run water in the sink. "_There is good." _This stupid game I play with myself is something Dr. Arelious came up with. I'm annoyed by how often I actually have to turn to it, but over the years it has proved its worth. So I start rattling off all the good I've ever seen. Anything and everything. Stuff from long ago, like Peeta throwing me the bread, to things like my mother visiting kids at the children's home last week. I am able to calm my hysteria, but there is just something strange about tonight that I can't put my finger on and I don't know what.

"Why don't you and Gale go for a walk and catch up or something, I can get these," Peeta says, as he comes up next to me and grabs a dish towel from the drawer.

That.

Throughout the entire meal, Gale and I were the focus. No matter how many times I tried to steer the conversation towards someone else it all ended up back on us. If it wasn't my mother pushing it, it was Tara. Even Pax seemed to be in on it. Now Peeta.

I grip the the edge of the sink. "What are you doing?"

"Washi-"

He opens his mouth but I cut him off. "Don't tell me washing dishes Peeta. This thing, this...I don't know what it is, but you're all doing it."

"The only thing I'm up to, is suds to my elbows, trying to get these dishes done." Peeta doesn't even try to hide his smile.

"Peeta," I say, taking the tone I use on the rare occasion the children need correcting. But before I can say anymore he grabs my face in his soapy hands, squishing my cheeks together.

"I promise. I'm not up to anything. Go."

So I do.

Gale says goodnight to everyone and I walk with him down the path towards town. Other than a few pleasantries about dinner we don't really talk. It's a cool night for being May. The chill goes right through my clothes to the sensitive damaged skin underneath and with it comes the frosty memories. Winter mornings at our meetings spot, finding refuge in th Hob when the snow became too much, sharing a cup of cider on new year's day in the square, the snow ball fight we had with Rory, Vick, and ...and Prim.

I close my eyes , take a deep and let it out slow. When I open them I notice for the first time that I am alone. I look back down the path to see that Gale has stopped a good ways back and is looking up at the stars with his hands in his pockets. I don't move towards him, nor him to me. We stand there, in a situation much like we were the last time I saw him. So close, but still so far away. Because of me. Becasue I was weak and running on hate. Neither my head or my heart could decide what the truth was because both were so broken.

Now, I have chosen to be whole.

I cover the distance, and am standing barely a foot away from him, but his eyes are still on the sky. There's so many things I want to say. Things I should have almost thirty years ago. Before I can Gale speaks.

"I think about her," he almost whispers. "I see her all the time Katniss. "

I tilt my head back, taking in the breath taking view of the constellations. The wind cools the streams of tears on my cheeks. I just let them fall. "Me too."

" I know you do. You got that look on your face after we started walking, and I knew you were thinking about her. That you were always going to go back to that moment and no matter what I do, or what I say, You'll never be able to seperate me from that."

"Gale, I-"

"No Katniss, listen," he says firmly. " I'll never know for certain. The only one's who will are probably dead. But I will always feel it. There's days when I can't even look into my wife or my daughter's faces without shame creeping up and eating away at me."

I hug him. Hard. I hug him so hard that he can barely get his hands out of his pockets to hug me back. Something wet hits my neck and I know why he wasn't looking at me. This is sorry. This is forgiveness. This is me, getting my friend back.

I haven't even let go of him yet when the last part of what he said hits me. "You're married!?" I ask not hiding the shock in my voice, " and you have a daughter? Why didn't you tell me?"

Gale laughs and holds up his left hand. "Apparently, even though you didn't want me, someone still found me desirable. So yes, I'm married. And I don't have a daughter, I have four."

There was no sting in his words. Just a hint of his old sarcastic humor that was so rarely heard outside our time in the woods. But now there's more joy behind it. So I smile. "With a camera-ready face like that, I figured someone might."

We walk side by side, not even two inches apart, the whole way. Gale fills me in on the past twenty years of his life. He met Gwen while working in Two. She was in charge of the crew clearing out the aftermath left when they destroyed the Nut. After my trial, Gale was assigned to oversee everything in Two. That didn't sit well with the current Commander in charge, one Gwenivere Stone , and for the next few months the two of them butted heads on almost everything. Then, much like it was with me, one day he realized he loved her. It took a year or so but she finally decided he was worth putting up with and they were married. They were in Seven at the time signing off on some new training base designed and named in honor of Gale, for dedicating so much to the rebel cause. They decided the time was as good as any, had Hazel and the kids flown in, and got married among the pinetrees and giant redwoods in the forest.

The children came a few years later. The oldest, Holly and Heather, are twins. Gale had a ten year head start on Peeta and I. Then it's Laurel, the carbon copy of her mother. Roxanne, Roxy for short, is only six months older than Tara and apparently her father's guts. Gale goes on and on about them and I can see the mix of pride and worry on his face. It's not the old worries of having that many mouths to feed or dreading the reaping. It's the kind brought about on a father with a house full of girls. I have to laugh. Due to his military assignments, they've lived in almost every District. Even the Capitol. He tells me his family has been in Twelve for a little over a month now but he just arrived yesterday. When I ask what brought him back after all these years he smiles and jsut tells me it's just another assignment.

How long we've been walking, I don't know. But when we finally stop it's at the end of a gravel walk way, in front of a one level brick house. I take a good look at it and feel strangely confused.

"It's exactly where our old house set in the Seam," Gale says reading my thoughts. "Well, almost anyways."

I can see it now. A good bit bigger and sitting about thirty feet from where the original was. Gale really is home. I walk half way up to the door with him and the door opens. A pretty red headed woman opens the door and the light from the street lamp illuminates her bright green eyes. She looks at me and greets me with a wide friendly smile, "It's nice to finally meet you Katniss."

Whether my mouth dropped open or not, I can't say. All I know is I was shocked. Her Capitol accent caught me off guard. Way off guard. I recover quickly though, genuinly smile at her and shake her extended hand. "Hi, you must be Gwen."

There's a silent moment or two but then Gale breaks it by saying he will just be a minute more. Gwen says goodbye and goodnight and goes back in the house. Gales hugs me first this time.

"I better go, or Peeta's going to think you and I've made a break for the woods," I say jokingly.

"He'd find his way back to you," Gale says playing into the humor of it all.

I kiss his cheek and turn to go, " Yea, he always does."

"Night, Catnip," Gales calls from the doorway. I wave and walk on down the street. Half way to the square something hits me and I take off running full out, for home. I just want to get home to him, to them, so bad. I burst into the house. My mother has gone home, but Haymtich is in the living room with Peeta and the kids. By the looks on their faces I'm sure they think I'm having one of my breakdowns. Peeta rushes over to me, alarm in his eyes, and takes me in his arms.

"Katniss? What's wrong? What are you running from," he asks urgently.

"Not from, TO," I say and kiss him full and hard on the mouth.

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**So, what did you think of that? Happen how you thought? Catch you off guard? I hope so. Let me know what you think of it. Story is still building. I'll have the next chapter up as soon as I proof read and deem it worth reading :)**


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